Savior
by SoSaysL
Summary: Akise is the Second. As he works with Yukiteru to defeat other diary holders, their trust slowly deepens. And yet, there can be only one. [Twelve Shots of Summer]


[A/n] The Future Diary with a twist: Akise Aru is the Second, and becomes Yukiteru's 'battle partner' instead of Yuno, who is now the Thirteenth and acts on her love from afar. I wanted to explore how Akise's influence might change Yukiteru throughout the series, just as Yuno's presence had, and how such a scenario might end as their trust slowly builds. While Akise teaches Yukiteru resourcefulness and strength, Yukiteru brings out the human side of Akise.

Written as the final entry for the Twelve Shots of Summer Challenge, for the Salvation prompt. The prompt isn't obvious in this one-shot, but it's definitely there.

* * *

On a sunny October afternoon, when the sunlight cuts into the ground and hangs heavily in the leaden air, a dark-haired boy runs straight into Akise. He is trembling, his palms sweating against the cellphone in his hand. Both hit the ground hard from the force of the impact, but Akise is quick to rise and study this new oddity. Akise has made up his mind to not involve himself in these death games until absolutely necessary, but this boy is obviously in desperate need of his help.

"Diary owner?" asks Akise matter-of-factly, and the boy confirms this with a wide-eyed, shocked look.

"They're...he's following me," the boy whispers hoarsely. "Are you one of them?"

"If by them, you mean a diary owner? Yes," Akise says, studying the other boy's face and reading ineptitude written plainly on his forehead. Akise doesn't even bother to check his cellphone; he already knows that this boy is the First. "I am the Second."

The boy looks utterly terrified. "I mean, my name is Yukiteru and I'd really like it if you didn't kill me," he says, glancing nervously behind him. "I know we're supposed to and all, but I don't really _want_ to succeed Deus and be God anyway. And this killer is stalking me... this is bad, but I kind of just want to go home."

Akise looks at him appraisingly. His intuition tells him not to side with this diary owner, who will probably end up a liability later. Alliances are best made between equals who have everything to gain from becoming allies. But Akise can't bring himself to leave this boy - inexperienced and anxious - out in the open where he's practically a walking target ready to be killed.

"Hm," Akise says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His gaze settles over Yukiteru's shoulder, and his hand alights on his preferred weapon. There walks a man wearing a long trench coat, an enormous hat, and a gas mask. Only the killer would take such pains to hide his identity. His long stride, steeped in confidence, tells Akise that his coat must be bulletproof. Low intelligence, however, to be checking his cellphone so plainly. He believes himself invincible, Akise notes. Likely he's checking his diary for information on his next victim. Akise studies him carefully, then checks his own diary surreptitiously and allows himself a small smile. This is almost painfully easy.

"Wait, why do you have a _baseball bat?_"

"I'll be right back," Akise says evenly, waving as if parting ways for the afternoon. "Try to act natural, will you?" But there's a teasing tone in his words that makes Yukiteru blink with the realization that _maybe_, just _maybe_, he has found an ally in this strange white-haired boy.

* * *

"Are you secretly a ninja or something?"

Akise allows himself a small smile. "Not really. Just an aspiring detective who knows how to use a baseball bat. Want to grab a bite to eat?"

And so they find themselves discussing strategy, weapons, and hand-to-hand combat over french fries and hamburgers at a nearby fast food eatery. It's late, but Yukiteru doesn't particularly mind; something about Akise's presence is calming despite his mysterious nature. His smile speaks of cool confidence, as if the world has unraveled before him and he can see truth in this relentless chaos.

"The bulletproof jacket gave him a false sense of security. When I walked towards him like a random classmate who'd just happened to run into you," Akise says, "he thought I was defenseless. See, his diary is the Murder Diary. Sure, it helps in cornering and attacking his victims. But if he's found the wrong victim, i.e. one who will actually attack back, he's nearly helpless. And that split second of gloating, of overconfidence, was what let me bludgeon his cellphone to pieces and kill him." He says these words with their appropriate weight, placing them gently on the table. He has obliterated a serial killer, and yes, out of necessity, but he has still taken a life.

"How...how do you know all this?"

"My diary is the Detective Diary," Akise adds. "It's based off the predictions of all the other diaries, so it's nearly perfect. I already knew that shattering a future diary kills the owner, but _he_ didn't. I can't tell whose diary does what specifically, though, only make an educated guess when I'm near them. But still, it's a good tool to have."

Yukiteru is many things, but Akise knows that he isn't stupid. He's already thought of what's wrong with this scenario - them, as enemies, chatting over dinner - and he's waiting for Akise to address it.

"Look," Akise says. "I know that we can't both survive. But I'd rather not see you be the first to die, if possible." Translation: _this alliance is doomed, but let's be friends anyways_.

"Sure," Yukiteru says. Akise seems a detective of contradictions; his smile is good-natured but his gaze is aloof. His voice is wry but his words are serious; his manner is calm but his pace is brisk. Yukiteru finds himself slipping into a sense of safety, but he swallows it down and thinks, _you must face him in the end._

* * *

"Steady," Akise says. "Remember, you're trying to kill the enemy, not the dart."

"Right," Yukiteru answers.

Their daily meetings have become something of habit. Yukiteru's mom is thrilled with polite, reserved Akise, whose presence can only be a good influence on her son. Akise has been coaching Yukiteru on dart-throwing, weapon-wielding, and general strategy. So Yukiteru spends days perfecting his aim, working on the speed and timing of his throw, honing his ability to target small moving objects with a single flick of his wrist.

Meanwhile, Akise narrates the events of the battle raging on with a detached efficiency: so-and-so has beheaded so-and-so, meaning that so-and-so will move on the offense, or that so-and-so has just lost an eye in an attempt to bomb a school but escaped nonetheless, or so-and-so has just set a trap for so-and-so but ended up burning to death in a horrible fire.

"Just don't use your diary to change the future," Akise advises, eyes skating over yet another report on his future diary. "Then you'll mark yourself as a target."

_Bullseye._

Yukiteru twirls another dart in his fingers. He has always been an excellent dart thrower, but, as Akise says, 'it's only practice that will allow that skill to become lethal.'

* * *

_Bullseye._

Her phone screen shatters, its life flickering to black.

* * *

Their first battle had presented no challenges to Akise. Four are already down. Taking on the Seventh was a matter of necessity.

"Good job," he says to Yukiteru after it is all over. They are walking home like two regular schoolboys, side by side near the road. Never mind that Akise's face and arms are splattered with droplets of blood. Never mind that Yukiteru is shaking from blood loss, his fingers constantly brushing the holster of his darts. Never mind that they are covered in bruises and wounds telling of a war zone. "Your aim is nearly perfect."

"They kept talking about the power of working together," Yukiteru says, trying to still the tremor in his voice. "Akise, they were just a young couple in love... completely innocent..."

"Kill or be killed," Akise says. "You wouldn't sacrifice yourself for their happiness, would you?"

"No, but-"

"That's how it is." Yukiteru has never heard a trace of weakness in Akise's voice until now. He looks over at the white-haired detective and sees bitterness coiled in his eyes. One step. Another. "I'm sorry, Yukiteru," Akise says. "That's how it is."

* * *

"Are you okay? You have a mildly disturbed look on your face."

Akise flips his cellphone shut. His lips are pressed together. _That stalker. She thinks she owns him._

"Nothing to worry about, really."

* * *

Today Akise reports the death of a five-year-old. The Fifth.

"That's plain weird," Yukiteru says. _Thwack._ Before him lies a collection of small metal sheets, meant to mimic cellphone covers, swaying from a tree in the breeze in his backyard. Akise had helped him glue the contraption together. His mom mistakenly thinks it's an adorable pastime meant to help him win top prize at the Winter Fair. Actually, it's target practice. "Who in their right mind would make a five-year-old candidate to be God?"

"I'd say that Deus wasn't ever _in_ his right mind to begin with," Akise notes wryly, leaning against a nearby tree.

"Maybe a five year old _would_ make a better God than him."

And suddenly they're both chuckling despite the enormous gravity of the situation.

"Who killed him?" Yukiteru absently taps the dart in his hand. It's absurd how easily these questions slip off his tongue now, as if he were asking about Akise's favorite flavor of ice cream.

"The Thirteenth," Akise says, and suddenly he seems somber. "I think it was the Thirteenth. The same one who killed the Tenth." His face darkens, but soon he has taken Yukiteru's arm in his with that half-infuriating manner, on his lips an amused smile. Yukiteru can never tell if it is meant to be joking or serious. "Anyway, something tells me we should wait near the Omekata cult headquarters tonight. At a safe viewing distance, of course."

"A diary prediction?"

Akise shows him the screen. "Yes. Well, I gather that the Thirteenth plans to visit the Sixth and exterminate her today, but the Fourth intends to stop that, and then there'll be the Ninth and the Twelfth thrown into the mix. We'd best watch and gather a sense for how our adversaries operate."

The meaning of his words is not lost on Yukiteru. _Our adversaries. _They're a team. Sometimes Yukiteru finds himself wishing that these survival games never existed, that he could be good friends with Akise without this sordid you-have-to-kill-each-other business, that they had gotten to know each other in another way besides maybe-competitors for Deus' throne.

He might have even given up the chance to be God for that.

* * *

The entire night thrums with screams, terror, and murder. The two are sitting near a clump of bushes at what Akise had deemed 'close enough to see, far enough for a quick escape.' Unfortunately, this had meant actually entering through the cult's gates - not too hard to do once it got dark - and waiting patiently from their vantage point.

Akise narrates the events quietly as they happen. Yukiteru hugs his knees to his chest and tries to imagine the Thirteenth as she sweeps her axe at the Sixth, instantly beheading the cult leader, and then turns around and finishes the Twelfth. Two more gone. It's insane, really, to imagine that one person could kill all those people with such ease.

"She just set fire to the headquarters, and now she's killing the cult members as they attack her," Akise says grimly. Sure enough, brilliant gold and red flames lick fiercely into the night. "I hate to say it, but she's our greatest enemy right now. If we work together to take her down, perhaps we could do it."

"But didn't she kill, like, half of the people already?"

"Please," Akise says, his red eyes sharp in the dark. "Trust in yourself a bit, Yukiteru. We've had our battles, but she's been on constant attack and is thus at a disadvantage."

"Or she's gotten very experienced," Yukiteru says, feeling fright extend its chilling fingers down his spine. "I mean, she's good at this stuff, isn't she-"

He falls silent.

For there she is in the distance, a slender silhouette against the warmly lit doorway, destruction in her wake and bloodied axe in her hands. She's beautiful - long pink hair gathered back elegantly, poise worthy of a dancer - and the spark of undeniable cleverness glimmers in her eyes. He can barely make out her features. But she seems to be looking directly at him, and she is smiling through the shadows.

"Oh no," Akise begins, looking up from his diary. "We've got to leave. Yukiteru-"

And then, as if only to them, she waves happily. Her axe is tucked neatly behind her back, her hand stretched high and energetic. She's nearly ecstatic with this simple action, as if it means to the world to her. It scares Yukiteru that she looks _cute_.

"Great," Akise mutters. "Yukiteru, I should have told you. Firstly, there is a very high probability that you have a stalker who has made it her life's mission to be yours, and for you to be hers. She is, however, not confessing her love to you yet. So she just kind of kills for you instead."

Yukiteru can't manage to make his mouth move. He _recognizes _her. That's _Yuno_. Hadn't she once promised that she would marry him while they were working together on a homework problem? Yukiteru, painfully naive as always, had thought it a mere passing joke. She hadn't meant that, had she?

"So she doesn't even need to be close to you, really," Akise muses. "Obsessive, possessive, desperately in love. She always knows what you're doing."

* * *

"You really should have told me."

"Sorry."

"How long did you know?"

"The beginning." Akise shifts his weight uneasily, and his face is unreadable in the dark. It's in the middle of the night, and suddenly Yukiteru really doesn't want to have this conversation. After all, they have just nearly escaped capture by fanatic cult members convinced they're pursuing the evil demons who murdered their oracle.

"And you didn't tell me." The accusation in Yukiteru's voice is palpable. His footsteps thud on the ground.

"Well, you'd be very, very creeped out if you knew. You've toughened up a bit now, so I thought I should tell you before your ignorance became crippling to our efforts."

"You're a great friend," Yukiteru says. "You know that, right?"

"I know," Akise says. That might be a smile, but Yukiteru can't be sure.

* * *

"You know what?"

A slight smile, a flash of red eyes.

"You should be the one who wins."

And suddenly neither is smiling anymore.

* * *

Another battle. The shadows loom around them as they dart through the bleached-white hallways of the hospital. Yukiteru's hand is stronger this time. While Akise engages the enemy, Yukiteru delivers the final blow: his signature dart, sent flying straight at the cellphone of the Fourth.

"Spectacular," Akise says dryly. They exchange a look, each seeing the other coated in blood and grime.

"Thanks," Yukiteru says.

Akise insists that they go to his house, since his parents are out of town for the weekend and Yukiteru's mom will probably be more than a little alarmed if they show up looking like this. As they walk back, for the first time Yukiteru thinks he might see Akise's mask slipping. His face is haggard, his spine slumped as he limps along the street beside Yukiteru.

"Lean on me," Yukiteru offers, and slips his shoulder under the other boy's arm.

* * *

"The more time Yukiteru spends with Akise, the more he finds himself convinced of one thing: that Akise is the rightful winner of these games. Forget the murderous five-year-olds, the crazy terrorists, the maniac stalkers. The current Deus is dying, and choosing his successor obviously had been a matter of mere entertainment to him. He has picked an assortment of dysfunctional people to provide himself with some good fun before his life ends.

But the future of the world depends on who is chosen - the lives of billions of ordinary people - and Yukiteru can't let himself forget that.

At first he had been secretly determined to make himself God. He had succumbed to his instinct for self-preservation and sworn to do whatever it would take to live. Even if that meant killing the others, even if it meant betraying Akise.

Then the question had crept into his mind. Being around Akise has changed Yukiteru; the stark logic, the constant composure and casual elegance, the inexplicable confidence in the face of terrifying odds. All of it, he has memorized by heart without even realizing it, for the voice in his head sounds almost like Akise. _Would you make a peaceful and wise God? Would you rule with kindness and justice and benevolence? Would your existence benefit humankind? _

He had struggled against the realization that he wouldn't be a particularly good God. It had wormed within him slowly, with the constancy of an inescapable truth. He knows this, though, and it is written within his soul where it cannot be reached: that he is a an average boy, nothing special, really. The only reason he has gotten this far is because of Akise. Akise who has inexplicably saved his life, Akise who has trusted him for no conceivable reason, Akise who has yanked him away from certain death.

Yukiteru despises these games, but he sees only one contestant even capable of the job, and that is Akise Aru.

If there can only be one, then so be it. Yukiteru has never thought himself particularly brave. In fact, for most of his life he has been a coward. He's shied away from his classmates for fear of rejection. He has crept away from company, away from the danger of being hurt by others. Even now, he hides behind Akise to remain alive.

Yukiteru does not want to be God; he is only afraid of death. That realization fully crushes him, gnaws away at his heart like slow-acting poison, but he builds up the resolve to do the one thing that is the best thing that he will have ever done.

When there are only two of them left, he will die, and he will make Akise the next God.

* * *

All logic tells Akise that he should have abandoned Yukiteru long ago.

It is foolish to trust him. By working with him, Akise only increases the possibility for betrayal. Not to mention that Yukiteru is being tailed by the Thirteenth from afar with her future diary. Akise is careful, but almost unconsciously he finds himself lowering his guard. After these days spent in each other's company, it is difficult to distrust Yukiteru.

There is one thing that Akise refuses to admit to himself.

And that is this: he has lost his determination to become God.

_Impossible,_ he thinks. _This was a temporary alliance. __Hardened detectives don't lose their determination, and especially not at such a critical juncture._ But his chest seizes painfully at the thought of having to kill Yukiteru. He tries to force himself to reconcile with that terrible fact: not only must one of them die, but these days are nearly ending and time is leaving too quickly. Already he sees the universe beginning to collapse in on itself until the next God is chosen. The fabric of reality is beginning to stretch and warp as Deus dies.

Akise is very good at hiding his thoughts. He masks his inner turmoil behind a cool demeanor and an even smile. He wants to live, but is there any way that both he and Yukiteru can survive? They could simply refuse to kill each other, yes, but then reality would shimmer and strain like a delicate cloth under flames until it finally split into blackened nothingness. Akise hates this feeling, the feeling of being trapped.

One day, he asks himself this: _Akise, are you willing to die for his sake?_

And terror surges through him when he discovers that the answer to that question might, against his will, be yes. _  
_

* * *

"Akise, do you think that being God allows you to bring people back to life? I mean, technically, you have total power over all time and space, so..."

Akise does not meet the other boy's gaze. "I already asked Deus."

Yukiteru nods, waiting. "And?"

"You can revive a person's body," Akise says. "That's no trouble. But... but the body would only be an empty shell. The soul can never be brought back."

They are both silent.

* * *

They confront the Thirteenth at a pleasant, secluded suburban park that does not look like a suitable place for an epic duel to the death. But Yuno, judging from her ecstatic expression and the loving, almost tender way she clutches her axe, is more than ready.

Akise does not want to kill her. He dreads this. But he holds on to his self-assurance for Yukiteru, drapes it over his shoulders like a cape so that they will both feel as if they have something to fight for. He tosses his baseball bat from one hand to the next in a practiced, easy motion.

"Don't enter the fray, Yuki dear!" Yuno calls. Akise's jaw clenches. He can't imagine why such a devoted stalker - obsessive to the point that he has been hiding her diary entries from Yukiteru, knowing that he would be unsettled by just how much this girl loves him - would leave Yukiteru alone for so long. "Just wait right there," Yuno continues sweetly, seeming thoroughly genuine. "I'll get to you, my love, I will. Just wait for a moment, all right?"

_Last time_, Akise thinks, and he lunges forward.

* * *

Akise concentrates on winning. Yuno is a deadly fighter, her weapon leaving silver streaks in the air that Akise barely manages to dodge. None of his blows have connected yet, swing as he might, and it is becoming increasingly precarious to avoid her attacks.

Yukiteru watches, wishing he could intervene somehow. He needs to wait for Akise to draw her out to where her cellphone is exposed, but Yuno isn't falling for it and stubbornly keeps her diary hidden. Yukiteru is not skilled in hand-to-hand combat, only in dart-throwing, and if he steps in he will only be skewered. He doesn't really follow what happens - Akise raining down bludgeoning blows on Yuno, while she periodically forces him back with sweeping arcs of silver.

And then there is a blur, and black blood on the ground, and Yukiteru isn't sure who has fallen but someone hits the ground, _hard_, and there is a sickening thud. And then Yuno is walking towards him.

"No," Yukiteru says, his voice too loud. Blood rushes in his ears. "No-"

"I've come for you, darling," Yuno squeals. "Oh, Yuki!" She drops the axe like a plaything and rushes forward with her arms outstretched. Yukiteru tries to make his mouth move, tries to breathe, but he can't. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you!" She smells of blood and grime, but her touch is gentle and soft. "Dear, I'm _so_ sorry I had to leave you with that crazy one. He's a little weird, I know, but I checked that you were safe _all_ the time. And while you were safe, I killed the rest of the diary owners for you. So that we could be together, my love."

Yukiteru's mouth opens and closes, and she reaches for his chin and pulls him into a deep kiss. His thoughts are flashing, incoherent - _that doesn't make any sense - wait, she left me with Akise purposely so that she could kill the rest - so she wouldn't have to defend me - but why? I barely even know her - _and she leans back, smiling, and drapes her arms about his shoulders -

"I love you, Yuki," she says. Her eyes tell him that she means it. "It took _so_ long for me to tell you, and I knew that I had to prove my love to you. Please say you'll be mine!"

- and then the final, damning thought, _Akise. She killed Akise. _And suddenly something in him crumbles into pieces. He can't move. Can't breathe. _She killed Akise._

This isn't devastating for the reasons it should be. Right now, he can't think about the billions of people who will be terribly affected, or the Thirteenth gazing at him adoringly, or even who will be the next God. None of them matter. None of it matters. It's all pointless.

He is no longer the jelly-legged coward he had once been, but it is all he can do not to break down and weep.

* * *

Blood pools darkly around Akise's prone form, a gaping wound in his side.

But Akise is not dead. He lies there on the ground, spent and bleeding, and feverishly congratulates himself on having the foresight to save up for stab-proof vest from eBay. It hadn't prevented the axe from connecting, but Akise knows the wound could easily have been fatal had its edge not been considerably dulled by the vest.

For, see, this has been part of the plan. There is enough blood seeping into the ground to make Yukiteru believe that he is dead; therefore, the diary of the Thirteenth will read, _Yuno killed Akise. I_n fact, this is only what Yukiteru believes. And now the Thirteenth believes herself safe, believes that she has won.

Yet the blood loss has weakened him considerably. More than he'd anticipated. He takes a shaky breath. Another.

And finally he rises to his feet, baseball bat in his hand dripping with his own blood.

"It'll be all right," the girl is saying. Yukiteru looks twelve levels of horrified, as if he is trying to muster up the courage to kill Yuno but can't. "Don't worry, my love. Let's get you home so you can rest up. I've loved you, you know. Always have. Finally we'll get to spend some quality time together."

Akise knows he shouldn't underestimate her, but he still pauses to gather his strength. He grimaces from the pain shooting through him like burning fire, scalding as it slides along his torso and constricts in his lungs so that each breath burns. His gamble has worked, but at a steep price.

* * *

Yukiteru's eyes widen. There is Akise, looking thoroughly exhausted and nearly dead. One hand is pressed to the side of his abdomen to staunch the bleeding, and the other clutches his baseball bat.

A million thoughts - but only one imperative. The Thirteenth sees Yukiteru's expression and whirls around, already on the offensive. _No_, Yukiteru thinks. _No. Akise is not leaving me again. He has saved me countless times, and I am in his debt. _

And then, as the Thirteenth lunges at Akise, who is gritting his teeth against the waves of agony coursing through his body: _This time I will save him._

* * *

It is too fast for Akise to understand what has happened.

There is the sharp, sickening slice of metal through flesh, and blood flying in an arc, and then Yukiteru drops to the floor in a heap.

An odd coldness seizes Akise. His pain melts into the coldness, and his blood runs through him like ice. He steps over Yukiteru's fallen form towards the Thirteenth. Her hand is clapped over her mouth, and something in her has broken utterly, as if her soul has splintered into bloody pieces. When she raises her head, she looks almost like a ghost pleading to be put out of her misery. As if part machine, Akise raises his bat and bludgeons her cellphone straight out of her hand. It snaps into two on the force of impact.

Only once she has disappeared can he bring himself to look at Yukiteru. He doesn't look peaceful - his arms are stretched out awkwardly, his torso a gory mess, his black hair matted with blood. But there is a faint smile on his face, and his eyes are bright blue. So, so blue.

"Stupid," Akise manages. His voice is ragged, his heart beating unnaturally loud in his ears. His knees fold under him, and he sits weakly on the ground. His eyes are fixed on Yukiteru's face. So it has come to this. He is the sole survivor of these death games. He now has everything that he had so painstakingly worked for. He is the next God of time and space, and he can't stop his shoulders from shaking.

"Stupid." His jaw clenches against the tears. "I would have made you God, you know. You..." he takes an unsteady breath. "You didn't have to save me. There was nothing else I needed, or wanted... I needed you to _live_."

_Fin_


End file.
